


The Bells of Alicante

by pumpkinpetals



Series: Fairy Tales: Malec [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, Aldertree is a dick, Alternate Universe - Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) Fusion, Fluff I guess, M/M, Magnus Bane & Catarina Loss Friendship, Malec, Strangers to Lovers, alec is phoebus, catarina is esmerelda, gay af, idk if isabelle will be in it yet bc i've not written it all oops, im so ready for the quasimodo and phoebus relationship dynamics, magnus is quasimodo, modern-ish AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:23:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpetals/pseuds/pumpkinpetals
Summary: Basically a Hunchback of Notre Dame AU that has been requested a few times.Magnus is raised in a Cathedral by a series of different Inquisitors. When he finally leaves to attend the Festival of Fools, his life begins.Magnus is Quasimodo and Alec is Phoebus - get ready for all the gay





	The Bells of Alicante

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope this does just as well as my other fairytale au's
> 
> This was requested by Evangeline74! Thank you for the suggestion!

**_Sometime during the 19 th Century…_ **

The city of Alicante was muted under nightfall. Shadowhunters lay, asleep in their beds, and the Ward Towers glowed silently, protecting every living being from the dangers beyond.

However, not all was as it seemed. In the south-west corner of the city, against the wall of an abandoned shop, the bricks were shimmering. It was unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t searching for it and yet, once it had been spotted, it was almost impossible to tear your eyes away.

Suddenly, the shimmering stopped and everything was still. Two heartbeats passed and then a spiral of purple magic twisted into existence and several people emerged from the wall.

They were all running, and as soon as they stepped into the alley behind the shop, they separated. Three men went east. Four people slipped into an unlocked building. But one woman, clutching at a bundle of rags, stopped. The portal closed behind her and she looked up at the stars which contrasted brilliantly with the black sky. It was as though the woman had fallen into a trance and lost herself to the cosmos.

Several moments passed and it was only as the cloth the woman was holding moved in her arms that she stiffened, and began to move. She slipped down narrow alleys and skipped through people’s gardens, she pressed herself against the closest wall whenever she thought she heard movement, but soon continued her journey, travelling closer and closer to the centre of the Alicante.

And then, by good fortune or fate or whatever it was one believed in, the woman spotted it. The high reaching towers of the cathedral. The woman had read about it in a book and recognised the stained-glass windows that decorated the walls of the holy ground. It was the entire reason she had taken the risk and broken into Alicante. The consequences of such treason were high, but the woman pushed them from her mind as she began to run once more.

The yellow light of the cathedral grew closer, reflecting in the inky puddles that sat in dips of cobblestone. The woman could practically feel the warmth of the light on her skin, and she hastily checked that the final road was clear before crossing.

The steps of the cathedral were slick with rain, and so, the rags pressed close to her throat and chest with one hand, she lifted her skirts with the other and began to ascend.

The tall wooden doors were in sight when the woman felt something cold wrap its way around her wrist. And then, before she even had the chance to scream, a sword was driven into her back and she fell to the ground.

A man with deep creases in his face and pale grey eyes pulled his seraph blade from the woman’s body and kicked her onto her side. He reached down, his grey hair falling over his forehead, and pulled at the rags the woman had been holding until a small child was revealed, sleeping, despite all that had happened.

The man angled the bloody sword until the tip of it was hovering just above the baby’s head.

 _Inquisitor Whitelaw_. A voice spoke into the man’s head and he quickly bought his sword to his side.

“Brother Enoch.” The man, Whitelaw, said, his cheeks the faintest shade of pink. “What brings you here?”

Brother Enoch’s expression didn’t change, and Whitelaw didn’t know whether it even could.

_This is my cathedral, Inquisitor. You’ll do well to remember that after murdering an innocent woman on my doorstep._

“Innocent?” Whitelaw scoffed, “She was a Warlock.”

Brother Enoch crouched down and, with thin, skeletal fingers, pushed the woman’s dark hair out of her face.

_She was a human. A human you swore to protect. It is the child that has demon blood._

Whitelaw spared a glance towards the still sleeping baby, disgust prevalent on his face.

“Brother Enoch, please, forgive me for my sins. You know it was not my intention to commit such a crime.”

Brother Enoch tilted his head, and Whitelaw could feel the silent man prying into his mind.

_You will not kill the infant. He has done nothing wrong in this world yet._

“You speak about it as though it is human. Demon blood runs through its veins and-”

 _You speak far too much, for a man who depends on his sword_. Brother Enoch interrupted. _Raise the child as your own. He may live here, in the cathedral, with me and my Brothers. But you must visit often and learn tolerance and acceptance._

Whitelaw’s face was twisted with uncertainty. However, he knew better than to challenge a Silent Brother, and so picked up the baby and held it awkwardly in his arms.

_He shall be named Magnus Bane._

 

**_200-ish Years Later_ **

 

“You should go.” A voice said from the shadows and Magnus Bane turned away from the balcony. Magnus’ one true friend, a vampire called Raphael Santiago, smiled, exposing his fangs, and crept around the edge of the room, making sure to keep out of the sunlight.

“You know it’s forbidden.” Magnus said, but Raphael merely shrugged, slouching down into an armchair.

“Lots of things are forbidden in this world. I should know.”

Magnus rolled his eyes as Raphael pressed his fingers together and tried to look threatening.

“Yes, and if you’d respected the rules a little more, perhaps you’d be able to live freely, and not locked away with me.” Magnus looked out over the city once more before pulling the curtains closed.

“I’m here because I broke the law. You’re here because your…masters told you not to leave.”

Magnus felt the familiar burn of magic at his fingertips, but after years of practice, he quickly subdued it and instead threw a dirty look towards his friend.

“I don’t have a master. I’m just respecting my father’s wishes.”

“Your father,” Raphael said, “is a demon. The Inquisitors are just Nephilim with a title. You’re more powerful than all of them put together, and there’s been a fair few over the years.”

Magnus tried to ignore Raphael’s words, but the faces of the many different Inquisitors who had taken over after Whitelaw ran through his mind. The current Inquisitor was a man called Victor Aldertree. He was a tenacious man, and he didn’t have much room for compassion. Magnus was used to that.

“It’s easier, this way. I’ve never lived outside these walls. I wouldn’t know how to exist out there.” Magnus’ words were sombre and he leaned against the exposed brick wall.

“It’s the Festival of Fools. Everyone will be acting strangely. If not for yourself, go for me.”

Raphael watched as Magnus peeked through the curtain. Laughter and music carried up from the streets below.

“What would I wear? I can’t go out like this – Aldertree has told me how people act towards our kind.”

Raphael eased himself out of his chair and walked over to the closet. After throwing several things aside, he pulled out a simple black mask.

“This’ll do.” He said and handed the accessory to Magnus.

“It’s not very fool-like.”

Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re a god-damned Warlock. You have magic! Just jazz it up a bit.”

Magnus passed the mask from one hand to the other and bit his lip before releasing green sparks from his fingertips. In a blur of magic, the mask bubbled and twisted in his hands, two points grew up from above the eye-slots and crystals formed in curling patterns. When it was finished, it looked like a cat with too-long ears. The mask covered the top of Magnus’ head and travelled down his cheeks, leaving only his mouth and eyes exposed.

“Is this okay?”

“Absolutely. Now, get down there and see what you’re missing.”


End file.
